


Midsummer Night

by badlifechoices



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Father/Son Incest, Fluff, Jealous Thranduil, M/M, More Fluff, cuteness, duh - Freeform, tiny bit of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 13:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3531734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badlifechoices/pseuds/badlifechoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas loves beautiful things. He is drawn to beauty like a moth to a flame. And Thranduil is the most beautiful thing he has ever laid eyes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midsummer Night

**Author's Note:**

> Another commission for my beautiful friend Yohaly!
> 
> I am still taking commissions!   
> http://legolastheprettiestelf.tumblr.com/post/110014768302/fanfic-commissions

The preparation for the great midsummer celebration had been underway for quite some time now: Barrels of the finest dorwinion wine had been brought and stored in the cellars of the elvenking’s palace. A great many elves had gathered, some of them came from places as far as Imladris or Lothlórien to witness the party. It was at that time, long before the war of the ring was fought in middle earth and before the company of Thorin Oakenshield passed through the forest of mirkwood that the great kingdom was known for their joyous festivities. Everyone was busy preparing, the cooks started early in the morning to prepare the feast, the amount of small cakes with cream and wild berries that was waiting to be devoured alone would make a man stare in wonder. One could say with certainty that there was not a single elf who did not take part in the preparations.

The sun had not yet reached its peak when the forest was already lit by a thousand colourful lanterns. A wide clearing had been chosen for this year’s celebration and the trees all around had been decorated with ribbons and vines of gold and silver. With the light of the morning sun filtering through the roof of leaves they glimmered and shone like gemstones. On one side of the clearing one could see a great throne grown from living wood as though the trees had on their own decided to create a seat for the woodland king and when evening came it too had been decorated with gold and silver and a baldachin of blue silk had been drawn over it. With every passing hour the mirkwood elves grew more and more excited.

Not even the young prince could defy the spirit of the midsummer night that took roots in his heart. Oh, he could not wait to join his friends to dance under the stars. He had not taken part in the festivities the last years, instead he had volunteered to join the patrol that guarded the southern border where the old fortress of Dol Guldur cast its shadow over the woods. But this year he had decided to stay, not willing to miss the celebration another year. There was another reason, apart from the joy this night would fill his soul with. A year ago he had not had a midsummer sweetheart as the young elflings called it. This year however, he could not deprive his heart from being with that one person he found himself deeply in love with, on this day. Of course whenever one of his friends inquired about this mysterious elf that had stolen the young prince’s heart, his lips were sealed. Only that it was most beautiful and handsome elf in the kingdom he said. And he was sure if they knew who it was, they would agree. Thus the only reply he got was kind-hearted laughter and a few teasing words before their conversation moved to less personal shores.

Laughter and chatter filled the halls of the palace that evening as Legolas parted from his friends to return to his rooms. Already he could hear the soft music weaving through the forest. With a song on his own lips he disrobed and went to take a bath. The water was warm and scented with sweet oils made from only the most delicate flowers. Longer than usually he stayed, washing and rinsing his hair twice before he was satisfied with how soft it was. Only then did he leave the now cool water. Carefully he put on the silver robes the tailors had sewn specially for this day and it pleased him to see how the fabric was flowing down his lean form, light as feathers and shining like liquid silver. Green was woven into the sleeves and the collar and his belt was of blue with crystalline leaves. Long did he ponder over his reflection in the mirror ere he started braiding his hair. Seldom did he braid it with such care and the braids were those that would tell everyone not only that he was a young warrior but also that he had already found the one he was to be bound to. It was but a slight difference, the two braids interlacing instead of finding their own way down the small of his back. Yet it looked better, he thought and he could not help the smile that spread over his lips, as he ran his fingers over the silken hair. At last he put on the crown that his father had chosen for him. A crown of colourful leaves and blue stones that would made his eyes shine like gems themselves.

The light hearted laughter was already filling the air and the music seemed to be pulling him to the clearing like it itself had magic woven into its melody. And it was truly magical that night. Now that the sun had set, a full moon and the stars illuminated the forest and with the colourful lights it seemed like faeries were dancing between the trees. O, how he loved these parties! For a moment Legolas continued to stand at the edge of the clearing, watching the wondrous event before he joined his friends. They were standing near the long tables where all kinds of food was sitting for everyone to take. Once he arrived, he was immediately brought a cup of wine, the red liquid shimmering inside the golden cup. The air was sweet with the scent of flowers but the wine was sweeter on his tongue. The drink was quite potent, one sip was enough to heighten his spirit.

Soon the music and the wine had set his blood on fire and his heart was light as a bird seeking to escape his chest and fly free. Yet even with his head feeling light like this he could not deny that something was missing. Not yet had he laid eyes on the one he so dearly wanted to see. For weeks he had missed him for he had gone to see the lady Galadriel for council but he had promised to return in time to join the celebration… Often he found his gaze wandering towards that wooden throne but always he found it empty.

Yet he tried to enjoy the night nevertheless, reminding himself that it was a night of joy and that he had been looking forward to it for too long to spend it in sadness. Thus he let the others talk him into singing along to the music and the wind carried his soft, clear voice far over the treetops. When the night grew older, he joined the dancers, the wine cursing through his veins as his feet soundlessly flew over the green grass. Many of the others found themselves drawn to him and they admired his beauty and grace as he danced with them to the sound of the harps and violins. He did not notice the eyes that followed his every move, the gaze that never left his form.

 

It was late but sunrise was still far when he felt that he was too exhausted to dance on and once again he joined the group of elves he had been chatting and laughing with earlier. His cup was filled again and he drank quickly, quenching the thirst the dance had awoken in his body. Too light was his head and too heavy his body from the wine to really concentrate on anything his friends were saying. So drunk was he that he did not notice how everyone else left to find their midsummer sweetheart until it was only him and one of his closest friends on the low bench. The wine made him forget all about his longing and the desire to see his love. Instead it left him giggling over the jokes his friend made. He enjoyed the deep feeling of happiness and joy the midsummer night always brought with it and now the wine and the sweet scent of the night flowers was intoxicating.

“You have such wonderful hair.” Legolas whispered as he reached out to catch a strand of his friend’s midnight black hair between his fingers. They were sitting close enough that they could feel each other’s warmth and their shoulders were brushing. “I love your hair, mellon nín. It is the colour of the night and soft as satin. Truly, I sometimes wish I had such wonderful dark hair. A Sindar I am and yet my hair is golden but you have the looks of a Sindar lord of old times.” The prince sighed and almost on their own his fingers found their way to his friend’s cheek. There was no other, romantic or sexual intent in his touches, only admiration for he had a weakness for everything that was fair. Be it elves or art, colourful birds or delicate flowers, if it was beautiful to his eyes, it would inevitably entrance him. He was drawn to beauty like a moth to a flame.

“You are truly beautiful, my friend.” Yet before his fingertips could wander down his friend’s cheek, they were caught in the other’s hands. It was just when the other elf opened his mouth to tell him something, his face as serious as one could be in such a night and after several goblets of wine, that both of them could hear soft footfalls. Someone was approaching them but Legolas could not see who it was for he had his back turned to the clearing. However his friend seemed caught in surprise and for a little moment he had an almost strange look in his eyes. Then he hastily let go of the prince’s hand and with a murmured apology scrambled to his feet and hurried away.

Bewildered, Legolas watched as his friend left. Yet he did not have time to be confused for a hand gently touched his shoulder. When he turned around to see who it was, standing behind them he could not keep the wide, happy smile from pulling at his lips.

“Ada!” Even more than before he was filled with joy to see his father here. The expression on the king’s face was one he had never seen before and for once he could not see what he was hiding underneath it. But he was unable to focus on that unreadable look because he was entirely taken aback by the other’s beauty. His long robes were of red and gold and his hair fell like water over his shoulders, crowned with silver, leaves and white stones that shone like fire and starlight. There was nothing he could do against the urge to reach out a hand and touch him, let his fingers trace those high cheekbones and feel the smooth skin. It would’ve been unbearable not to and the wine had taken every bit of caution from his mind. His father’s familiar, flowery scent was surrounding him, drawing him in until he was on his feet and close enough to press their bodies together.

“ _Ada.”_ He said again, his fingers still resting on his father’s beautiful face and in the blink of an eye the strange expression disappeared. It was replaced by a smile, a wonderful, gorgeous smile that made Legolas’ heart beat faster. Oh, he was truly the most beautiful thing, Legolas had ever seen. Being near him was alone to cast every other thought from his mind and leave him longing, wanting… Strong arms sneaked around his waist, his ada’s hands warm on his back but they did not pull him closer, they just held him there. It was up to Legolas to lean in, standing on his tiptoes to bring their lips together in a chaste and yet incredibly sweet kiss.

When he pulled back again, his father was still smiling. “If you do not mind, ion nín, I would wish to spend the rest of this night with you.” And it was clear in his words that he did not want to see Legolas with anyone else this night and even more he did not want to see him this close to anyone else. The prince only nodded, unable to keep the smile off his lips, as he agreed.

Taking Legolas’ hand, his ada led him away, over the clearing and to that great throne. Without hesitating, the young elf followed his invitation and climbed onto his lap, wrapping his arms around Thranduil’s neck and kissing him again. It was comfortable like this, intimate as they shared sweet, little kisses and if Legolas had been concerned about anyone seeing them, his ada’s nearness made him forget about it. His head was buzzing from the wine and yet he couldn’t help admiring the way the older elf moved, how graceful he bowed his head to kiss him, how his long lashes caressed the pale cheeks… Everything about his ada was beautiful and in his drunken state he could not keep the words to himself. “Your hair is wonderful, ada.” He murmured, running his fingers through the ivory strands and again thinking that it was flowing so softly over his back. It was more beautiful than any elf’s hair could be, none of the great Sindar or Noldor lords could compare.

He had always thought Thranduil was the most beautiful elf there was. Even when he was still a young elfling himself he had admired his ada’s beauty and authority. And as he grew older he had been entranced, unable to stay away. Whenever he was near his ada, he found himself staring, wishing he could touch him, feel how soft the marble skin was. He had thought that if he could spend his entire life loving him and admiring his beauty it would be a happy life. Thranduil’s eyes shone like stars and his pale lips were so soft. His features were so sharp and yet not cold or arrogant. Oh, how long had he wished to kiss those lips and to be touched by those strong and gentle hands and how scared had he been to be rejected when he first voiced his desire.

“Surely I must be the happiest elf in this kingdom for I have your love, ada.” Because all of this, all this beauty, belonged to him and him alone. He was the one elf who could feel those hands on his body and who could kiss those sinful lips because he was the one who owned the king’s heart.

His fingers traced the rim of the crown upon his father’s head, thinking that the golden autumn leaves suited him more than they would anyone else. No one could ever hope to be as graceful and _royal_ as Thranduil and Legolas was sure that there would never be another king he could look up to. He was so spoiled by his ada that he was ruined for everyone else. Never would he want to be with anyone else, serve or love anyone else. Because all he wanted, all he needed was right here in his arms and he would not let anyone take it away from him.

Pressing himself closer, he brought their lips together again, capturing his ada in a slow and yet passionate kiss that left the both of them breathless. The king brought his hands up to rest on his back and cup his neck but he did not push and Legolas was more than happy to just keep kissing him. And when those wonderful lips curved into another beautiful smile, the young elf thought that he had never before been happier in his life. “I love your smile.” He mumbled, the alcohol and exhaustion from the long night slurring his words. “It is more beautiful than the stars and the moon.” And he would bet that not even the Silmarilli though they were praised for their eternal beauty could compete with it.

 

The king however didn’t answer. Instead he leant down, bringing his lips close to his son’s ear to whisper words of love. Because to him, there was nothing more beautiful and pure than his son and there was nothing he loved more in this world than the elf he was holding in his arms. Gentle kisses he scattered over Legolas’ forehead and temples. The younger elf’s eyes fluttered shut and it did not take long until his fatigue overwhelmed him and lured him into the realm of dreams. Thranduil kept holding him close, running his long fingers through the golden hair and whispering sweet endearments into his ear that made Legolas smile in his sleep.


End file.
